The Brattychick

M: You can't expect me to read minds. Heidi: Can't I expect you to put two and two together? M: No! I'm a boy and I'm retarded when it comes to emotions. Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7

"Why must men grow bald or have receding hair lines? Ugh! Why can't they grow bald below the belt line?"

At karaoke... Person Singing "Lean On Me": I'll share your load, if you just call me... Boy 1: I'll share your load. Heh heh. Boy 2: Load. Ha ha. More Boys crack up. Girl: What? Boy 2: Load. Girl: Huh? Heidi: [stage whisper] It's funny because it's about poop.

Sing to me about how you like the flawed tough girl, because I am a sadder but wiser girl. Some boys don't like girls like us. Oh, but some boys do. This is a clip from the 1962 version of The Music Man . Most of the music from the play is really interesting. Meredith Willson does some really cool things with rhythm and onomatopoeia. I love this song. The lyrics make me smile. If you haven't seen this movie, you should. The 1962 version.

I can do anything whilst having sex. Including, but not limited to blogging, yelling at my kids, talking about pooping, sleeping soundly, making a grocery list, talking to you on the phone...Oh yes, it was you. I cannot think of anything to blog about today, hence listy. I am in the middle of writing a dark comedy monologue and it's really something. You say it's not natural, but I think you might not be doing it right. If you think you are the first boy that has propositioned me and that I'm going to give my whole life up for you, you are sorely mistaken. And also? Mentioning the size of your penis is not a good pick up line. Because, so what? She probably has a sex toy that's bigger. And it vibrates. Do you vibrate? No? Oh, well, maybe you need a better pick up line then. My hair is ridiculously long. I do not believe that homosexuality is a sin. My husband is superman. Yawn. I have a titanium rod and screws in my leg and it grosses me out. I have seven scars from t...

I shuffle the cards, and fly the low ones across the room and what I have left lets me color you an angel I hold my hand of souvenirs for dear life to Remember some lovely little things first kisses and street lights shiny skin and blue night touching boyish strong arms, hard stomach tracing the line down your back swimming in the dysfunction is awfully fine because at least it's accepting and sincere your excited smile and mischievous look mulch in my hair and scared stomach you made me feel it's a shame... like how my leg fit perfectly in the crook of yours you remembered my pain, even though you didn't have to you were standing so close I could feel the heat of your body put your arm around me slow nervous breath on the back of my neck breathing me in. Pulling me in. One hand on my waist. I'm always with you. I would be honored. I still love you. You. You. and you and you.

The Ladies' Section I shall be ending each paragraph of this blog with a one word sentence. It will serve as a palate cleanser since this is the most disjointed blog I ever writ. Word. As I write this a pill that makes me sleepy is coming to get me, so forgive me if it goes astray. I feel crummy today. There aren't enough hours and I don't have enough energy. Today was a waste. It was one of those days where at four-ish I realized that I was going to do nothing productive and wished I could just fast forward to tomorrow. Wah. I had my ten year high school reunion this past weekend. It was really fun and a pretty good cross-section of those kids. I liked hanging with old friends and catching up with acquaintances. I especially liked talking to all the shy kids who ended up coming out of their shell as they grew up and are the witty and charming people I suspected they always were. In the end I felt like I recovered some old friends and made some new ones. Yay. So I am feelin...

Play the guitar, sing, and wear eyeliner. This is Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day . He also often wears skinny new wave ties while rocking the guyliner and this makes me have difficulty breathing.

Ugh. I need to make a tee shirt that says: ATTENTION: I DON'T HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU, POMPOUS ASS I am a very friendly and jokey person with everyone. This does not mean that you make me swoon. It probably just means I think you are cool. I am married. Even if I happen to tell you I have a crush on you (which I did not), I am exaggerating. It does not mean that I am in love with you. Unless you are Amanda . I am totally in love with Amanda. So don't be an idiot, you moron. You're so vain. I bet you think this blog is about you. Don't you? DON'T YOU? Dumdum.

Grrr! I have been wanting to blog for a week, but Myspace was taking 18 minutes to load each page. When it finally did load the pages they were so full of errors it was hard to even navigate. After about an hour when I was able to get to my blog, it wouldn't let me type anything. ROAR! Ahem. Ok, so the sad new picture is simply the face I make when it's time to go home, or if someone else has escaped my clutches to try and force them to stay at my house. Eric Escaping My Clutches Yeah, so I have this problem. I never want people to go home. Not at midnight. Not at 3 AM. Not the next morning. Once I laid under Jeff and Nikki's car so that they couldn't pull out without killing me. Another time I hid April's purse in my closet so that she couldn't leave. It got so bad that Jamie came up with a slogan for me; "Heidi goes all the way if you promise to stay." Not true, but I really don't want people to go home. It's cool that my girl, Ali, suffer...